


1931

by BucksomeBarnes (Freckled_Halos)



Series: The Before [2]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: 1930s, Childhood Friends, F/M, First Kiss, Fluff, Jealous Steve Rogers, M/M, Mutual Pining, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers, Protective Bucky Barnes, Sickfic, Sleepovers, Teenagers, Underage Masturbation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-02
Updated: 2018-08-03
Packaged: 2019-06-20 20:15:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,744
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15542145
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Freckled_Halos/pseuds/BucksomeBarnes
Summary: Steve hasn't been at school in a few days and Bucky has grown concerned.Then, Steve witnesses Bucky kiss someone else and they both aren't quite sure how to feel about it.





	1. February

FEBRUARY 1931

 

Bucky knocked on the Rogers’ front door with gloved hands, brows furrowed. After a few quiet moments, Sarah opened the door a crack, not wanting the cold air to get in.

“James,” she started, opening the door a little further. “Good afternoon.”

“Hi, Mrs. Rogers. Is Steve okay? I haven’t seen him at school all week.”

Giving Bucky a small smile, Sarah replied, “He’s alright, honey, just down with a cold. He’ll be fine in a couple more days.”

“Oh,” Bucky answered. “Is he home? Could I say hello?”

Thinking for a moment, Sarah stepped aside, letting Bucky slip in the door. “Of course. He’s past the contagious stage and I think a visitor would really cheer him up.”

Bucky shrugged out of his coat and scarf, peeled off his gloves, and stepped out of his boots.

“He’s in his room,” Sarah added closing the door and walking into the kitchen.

Bucky shuffled down the hallway and knocked lightly at Steve’s closed door before peeking in.

Steve was propped up in bed reading and a steaming mug was on his nightstand. His head turned slowly towards the door as his eyes lingered on the page of his book. Finally meeting Bucky’s gaze, Steve’s face brightened with a wide smile.

“Buck!”

“Hey, pal,” Bucky said, stepping inside and closing the door behind him. “How are you feeling? I was startin’ to get worried.”

Steve smiled shyly and set his book aside as Bucky settled down at the foot of the bed. “Sorry,” he murmured. “I’m alright. Nothin’ I haven’t had before.”

Looking hard at Steve, Bucky was suddenly very aware of how fragile Steve really was. Not in mind or in spirit—not at all—but seeing him now, pale and clammy, nose fire engine red and eyes weepy, Bucky almost winced.

“I’m okay, Bucky, really,” Steve added warily, noticing the look on his face.

“No, I know y’ are, I just…I was startin’ to get worried.”

Steve pursed his lips, trying to hide a smile. “You said that already.”

“No, right, yeah,” Bucky fumbled, flushing. Why was he so anxious all of a sudden? His heart was beating much too fast.

Steve began to cough violently and Bucky leapt up off the bed to grab the mug at Steve’s side and hand it to him. Nodding, Steve took it and tipped it tentatively to his mouth, blowing the steam away. Bucky wrung his hands together as he watched Steve’s chest start to relax. They both took a deep breath.

“Is there anything you need? Anything I could get you?” Bucky asked.

“No, I’m alright.” Steve looked at him with wide blue eyes. His face softened and voice lowered as he said, “Thank you, Buck. Honest.”

Bucky nodded and shuffled his feet, looking around the room.

“I know I’m not real great company right now,” Steve started. “But you can stay for a while—if you want. My ma’s making soup for supper.”

“Are you sure? Shouldn’t you be resting?”

Steve smiled. “I’ve been in bed alone for almost a week, Buck. I’d like the company. Really.”

“Okay.”

Steve blushed, adding, “only if you want to.”

“I do,” Bucky answered quickly. “Want to.”

They played cards together for an hour or so before Sarah called them out to eat. Bucky held Steve’s door open for him as he shuffled out, sniffling, wrapped tightly in his quilt. The three of them ate at the kitchen table together with light conversation and small laughs. Sarah told an embarrassing childhood story about Steve that made him flush lightheartedly as Bucky amusedly beamed at him.

After supper, Steve and Bucky moved to the living room to keep playing their game as Sarah finished cleaning up. The phonograph was playing quietly in the background as they sat cross-legged, facing each other from either side of the sofa.

The evening wore on and the sun set early, bringing out a cold winter night. When it was close to nine o’clock, Bucky finally sighed and moved to stand up.

“I should probably get home,” he said.

“Your mother knows you’re here?” Sarah asked from the kitchen doorway, arms folded.

Bucky nodded.

“Why don’t you stay the night, James? It’s too dark and cold for me to let you to walk all the way home.”

Steve looked brightly from his mother to Bucky, a wide smile on his face.

“Only if you’re sure, Mrs. Rogers. I wouldn’t want to overstay my welcome—”

“You’re not,” Steve interjected quickly.

Bucky tried to hide his grin.

They decided to stay in the living room for the night, bringing in as many extra pillows and blankets they could find. Steve settled onto the sofa, still cocooned in his quilt, a fresh glass of water sitting on the floor by his head. Bucky stripped down to his undershirt and boxers (keeping his socks on for warmth) before settling down on a throw pillow. Bucky rolled towards Steve and bent an arm under his head. Steve was looking at him from the sofa, hands tucked up between his cheek and the pillow.

Sarah said goodnight to them, giving Steve a warm kiss on the forehead, before switching the lights off and retiring to her room. It was pitch dark and quiet. Bucky listened sadly to the sticky, rumbling breaths coming from Steve’s direction.

Half an hour passed before Bucky whispered, “Hey, Steve?”   

Steve hummed back.

“What’s the one thing you wanna do before you die?”

There was a pause. “I know I don’t sound real good, Buck, but I’m not dying yet.”

Bucky flushed in the darkness. “No, I didn’t mean—”

“I know what you meant.” Bucky could hear the smirk on Steve’s face. “I dunno. See the world maybe?”

“That’s a pretty big ‘one thing.’”

The blankets rustled and the sofa creaked as Steve shifted. “Well, what about you then, mister?”

“I dunno. I guess I just want to see what happens, y’ know? Want to see things…get better.”

“Yeah,” Steve sighed with a cough. “See things get better. I guess I just want—” He stopped abruptly.

Bucky waited a few seconds for Steve to continue. When he didn’t, Bucky asked, “What?”

It was barely audible, but Steve answered, “I don’t wanna be so sick anymore. I want to be able to do good, I guess. Help people? I dunno, it’s stupid.”

“It’s not stupid,” Bucky replied. “It’s great. You’re pretty great, Steve. A lotta people just want to get rich or push other guys around. But you’re not like that.”

Steve closed his eyes and beamed to himself in the blackness. “I guess.”

Bucky screwed up his eyebrows and repositioned. “I think you’re gonna do it, Steve. Do good. Help the little guys. I can feel it.”

Blushing, Steve opened his eyes again to look through the darkness down towards Bucky’s general direction. “You think?”

“Yep.”

A pause. “Well…thank you.”

They both fell silent, the only sound in the room besides Steve's wracked breaths was the ticking of the clock on the wall by the front door. Another half hour passed.

Steve reached down for his glass of water and sat up with it, bringing his knees to his chest and drinking deep. Shakily setting it back down in the darkness, Steve cleared his throat.

“Hey, Buck?”

Bucky stirred and blinked his eyes open out of a half-sleep. “Yeah?”

“Thanks for comin’ over.”

Bucky smiled to himself and looked down at his hands atop the blanket. “Of course. Sorry you’re sick.”

“It’s okay,” Steve sighed, sliding back down to a horizontal position. “It happens a lot.”

“Well…sorry for that too,” Bucky replied.

“I just wanted to say thanks. For the company.”

“Hey,” Bucky started, rolling on his side towards the couch. “You’re not gettin’ rid of me that easy.”

Steve breathed out a thick laugh. “Aw, man. That mean I’m stuck with you?”

Bucky’s eyes strained in the blackness, trying to focus on what lines of Steve he could make out. The closed curtains on the window towards their feet let in just enough moonlight, Bucky could see Steve’s shiny forehead, dotted with sweat. He could see the crooked slope of his raw nose and pink chapped lips. And he thought he could see Steve looking at him too.

“Yeah,” Bucky whispered back. “You’re stuck with me, pal…’til the end of the line.”

The whites of Steve’s teeth caught what little light the curtain was letting in as he involuntarily smiled. It made Bucky grin too, his stomach fluttering.

“’Til the end of the line…” Steve repeated wistfully.

They looked towards each other for a moment in silence, straining to discern the expression on the other’s face.

Bucky cleared his throat, his cheeks and ears turning hot. “’Night, Steve. Sleep sweet.”

Steve rolled to his back, letting out a long breath. “Sleep sweet, Buck.”

After a few minutes, they both easily drifted asleep, listening to the rustles and slow breaths of the other just an arm’s reach away.

\--

Come morning, Bucky’s eyes slowly blinked open. Sarah had opened the window curtain half way, letting in white sunlight in a long rectangle, stretching from the end of the rug, along Steve’s small body lying on the sofa, to his chest that rose lightly with each gravelly breath. One of his arms was flopped over the side of the cushions, hanging next to Bucky’s face. Bucky pulled the blanket up to his chin and rolled towards Steve, staring at his hand.

It was pale, his fingertips pink and soft looking. His palm was longer than it was wide, fingers gently curled inward. Steve’s nails were short and clean, knuckles pronounced. Bucky looked at the faint teal lines of his veins running up from the base of his wrist to his forearm and felt a tightness in his chest he couldn’t explain.

“Hey,” Steve croaked suddenly, startling Bucky. “Sorry,” Steve said, trying not to smile.

“Hey,” Bucky breathed, sliding his eyes up from Steve’s hand to his face. Steve did look marginally better. His eyes were clearer, nose less red. Steve reached down and took a long drink from the glass of water, trying to rehydrate his dry mouth.

“How’re you feeling?” Bucky asked, pushing himself up and rubbing at his eyes.

“Better,” Steve smiled. “Thanks.”

Sarah heated some leftover soup for Steve for breakfast and Bucky had toast and jelly. After they ate, Bucky reluctantly looked at the clock and figured he should really be getting home now. Steve watched sadly from the couch, wrapped up in blankets, as Bucky layered on his coat, scarf, gloves, and boots. He lingered at the door, playing with a loose piece of yarn sticking off a fingertip.

“D’you think you’ll be at school on Monday?” Bucky asked.

“Hope so,” Steve replied quietly.

“I’ll see you in a couple days then.”

They looked at each other. Steve stared into Bucky’s eyes, trying to figure out the expression in them. The immediate thought that came to Steve’s mind was pity, but he knew Bucky was kinder than that, so what was it? All Steve wanted was to spend the rest of the weekend with him, but surely Bucky didn’t feel the same way, right? Bucky had plenty of other friends. He probably wanted to spend time with them and just felt bad for leaving Steve alone. But something about Bucky’s shuffling feet and grey expression gave Steve the slightest inclination that Bucky might have been feeling the same way he was.

“See you,” Steve finally answered with a sad smile.

Bucky ducked out the door and the room was quiet. Steve wrung his hands together and looked around, unsure of how to feel or what to do with himself. After letting out a prolonged sigh, he got himself up and wandered back to his bed and his book. He tried to focus on anything else, but couldn’t get the sight of Bucky comfortably sleeping next to him out of his mind. He fell asleep that night and the next dreaming of Bucky pressed warmly against him.


	2. Fall

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky has a "first" and it results in (somewhat) unexpected feelings from both him and Steve.

FALL 1931           

Bucky started at George Washington High School a year before Steve and it was a tough year for both of them. Steve still had a few acquaintances at school, but it wasn’t the same. He and Bucky still met up before school at their usual street corner, but then had to part ways, Bucky heading to the train station and Steve the opposite direction. They’d still meet at the soda shop every Friday afternoon and would usually spend at least one weekend day together.

As the first weeks of the school year wore on, Steve began to notice small changes in Bucky. He began doing his hair slightly different and talking a little cruder, which didn’t bother Steve, it just took some getting used to. What did bother Steve was the new friends Bucky was making. Bucky was allowed to socialize with whoever he wanted, Steve didn’t want to be jealous about it, but the specific ones Bucky was choosing were the problem.

Bucky brought some of them to the soda shop one Friday. Steve knew he was just trying to be inclusive, but his new buddies had no intention of such a thing. They either picked fun at Steve or ignored him entirely. Bucky tried to intervene, Steve saw, but it didn’t stop them. And what hurt Steve the most was that it didn’t make Bucky stop hanging around with them.

It was a particularly cold November afternoon and Steve was shuffling down the sidewalk, arms wrapped around himself. A few days before, he and Bucky had agreed to meet at the candy store after school today, just the two of them. Steve had been thinking of nothing else since. The wind howled around him and the sky was dark and grey, threatening cold rain. He blundered into the shop, rubbing hands up and down his arms. He waved at the owner, Mr. Johnson, before wandering around, gazing longingly at all the sweets.

A significant amount of time had passed before Steve realized it and asked Mr. Johnson for the time. It was already almost five o’clock. Bucky should have been here at least half an hour ago. The pit of Steve’s stomach dropped as he wrapped his arms around himself again. He waited another twenty minutes before giving up, buying himself a Reese’s and leaving the store, disheartened.

As he walked home, Steve got an awful feeling in his gut and it told him to stop by the soda shop. Part of him didn’t want to, the voice in the back of his head told him to just go home—go straight home, don’t even risk disappointing yourself like that. But the gut feeling won.

In a few minutes, he approached the storefront, peeking through the front windows feeling full of dread, but painfully curious. And his gut was right. Bucky sat at the counter, his jacket draped around the slender shoulders of a blonde girl next to him. There was a malt glass in front of them and the two straws sticking out of it sent red-hot anger through Steve’s chest. He watched as Bucky turned to the girl, leaning much too close, and placed a large hand on her arm. The anger bubbled into something almost primal and Steve had to physically stop himself from running inside and pushing them apart.

She leaned even closer, putting a thin hand on Bucky’s knee. The distance between their faces closed as their lips gently met and all the air was sucked out of Steve’s body. The emotion that punched Steve in the gut surprised even him and a hot well of tears began to prick up in his eyes. Turning on his heels, he walked home as fast as he could without getting too winded as tears silently rolled down his cheeks.

Finally reaching home, Steve was infinitely glad his mother was at work as he plowed inside and slammed the door shut. He ripped off his coat and kicked off his shoes. Steve had always known there was something different about Bucky and about the way he felt about him. It was undeniable. But he didn’t realize until this afternoon exactly what and how strong that feeling was. Steve was furious that Bucky had ditched him for anyone, let alone some _dame_. And some dame he had to go run off and kiss, in public, right where everyone could see. In _their_ soda shop. After the past few months of dealing with Bucky’s stupid new friends being jerks to him, this just pushed Steve over the edge. But he knew it wasn’t just that. He knew, maybe not-so-deep down that he had feelings for Bucky. Thinking back, Steve wasn’t quite sure when that happened. He couldn’t remember ever consciously realizing it, but it wasn’t a surprise either. Now that he thought about it, he had never felt any other way about Bucky, not for as long as he’s known him. Steve could never put words to the feeling, or maybe he just never wanted to, but after today, after seeing Bucky kiss someone that wasn’t him, there was no ignoring it anymore.

\--

Bucky pulled away, opening his eyes to see Lizzie Davis staring longingly at him. Was that it? _That_ was what all his high school friends had been ranting and raving about since Bucky first agreed that he thought Lizzie was a real looker? She was, of course. She was beautiful with healthy curves and long thick hair and plush lips. Bucky could feel it in the pit of his stomach—the desire, but that was it. There were no sparklers or fireworks or whatever other stupid things people said. His heart wasn’t beating any faster and his hands weren’t clammy. He looked at her and felt nothing.

She lived down the street from the Barnes’ and like a good date, he walked her home and kissed her cheek. Shoving his hands in his pockets, he hopped down the stoop and pressed on home. He was melancholy throughout the rest of the night, poking at his supper, disinterested. Bucky excused himself early and went upstairs to lie down.

That night, alone in the dark, Bucky tossed and turned, trying to fall asleep. Staring up at the ceiling, Bucky slipped a hand inside his boxers, rubbing himself lightly. He tried to relax and think about the kiss, hoping it would quicken the process so he could finally get to sleep. But while replaying it in his head, when he pulled away and opened his eyes, it was Steve staring back at him, not Lizzie. The pit of Bucky’s stomach tingled as he grew harder. Bucky tried to be surprised at himself, but couldn’t muster it. The more he tried to not think about Steve, the more his face popped up in Bucky’s mind and he couldn’t deny the immediate physical reaction it yielded. After a few long minutes of denial, Bucky gave in and let himself dream about Steve.

Steve’s bright blue eyes and soft blonde hair. Steve’s smooth skin and pink lips. Steve, smiling back at Bucky after kissing him. He pictured Steve’s hand being the one touching him and that quickly proved itself to be the just the trick. Biting down on his opposite fist, Bucky stroked faster, thinking about Steve, yes, almost there, Steve, faster, right there, Steve, _oh_ , until he came silently inside his underwear.

Running his clean hand down his face, Bucky let out a long breath. _Oh no._ There was no coming back from this, Bucky knew. There was no pretending that didn’t just happen. There was no talking himself out of how he felt. Even if he didn’t vocalize it, the bodily reaction alone told Bucky all he needed to know. And it was both terrifying and exhilarating all at the same time.

\--

Steve stood at their street corner, arms crossed, leaning his back against the brick apartment building behind him. He saw Bucky approaching from the right. His stomach leapt and his heart soared for a fraction of a second before he remembered the day before. Steve told himself he’d try to stay calm and be understanding, but seeing Bucky’s lips and knowing that they had recently been on someone else sent pangs of anger through his chest.

“Hey,” Bucky breathed with a smile, jogging up to close the distance between them. “Good morning.”

“Hi.” Steve answered, stony.

Bucky’s face immediately fell. “What’s wrong?”

Steve shot him a look and tried to contain his hurt. “You forget something yesterday?”

“What? I—” Bucky stopped abruptly, his eyes widening in realization. “Oh, god damn it, Steve, I’m so sorry. I’m a real jerk, I forgot. Damn it…”

Steve sighed and looked down the street, noticed all the men and women strolling along, holding hands easily and openly. “You do anything fun instead?”

Steve looked hard at Bucky and he knew. He knew Steve knew. He just didn’t know how _much_ Steve knew. 

There was no point in lying. “I’m sorry, Steve. I didn’t mean to, I just…got sidetracked.”

Steve uncrossed his arms and pushed off the wall, sighing. “Apology accepted. Just don’t let it happen again,” Steve looked at Bucky with a small smile.

Relieved, Bucky answered, “It won’t. Can I make it up to you?”

Steve thought of about twelve ways Bucky could make it up to him, but none of them he would ever say aloud. “You treat next time and we’ll call it even.”

“God, Steve,” Bucky replied slinging an arm roughly around Steve’s neck. “How’d a guy get so lucky? Havin’ you as a best friend.”

It made Steve happy and sad at the same time. They walked together until their paths diverged, Bucky clapping Steve on the shoulder before turning towards the train station. Steve watched Bucky for a little while, sauntering confidently down the sidewalk. Steve needed to keep a clear head about all this. Needed to walk that fine line between keeping his feelings in check while still being friends with Bucky because the last thing Steve wanted was to lose him in any way. So Steve would forgive him. He’d forgive and forget and move on. No matter how much it hurt or how angry he was, it was all worth it to have Bucky look at him with fond eyes, calling himself lucky to have Steve as his best friend.  

**Author's Note:**

> My brain the entire time writing this series:  
> me: "what do 12 and 13 year old boys talk about? Especially in the 1930s? Is this realistic? Am I making them too openly sensitive and talkative about it?"  
> me to me: "they can do and talk about whatever the fuck you want."
> 
> So there's that. What's more important to me is keeping it canon and in-character so w/e


End file.
